


All Rights Reserved

by nialltruffles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, Little Bread, Romance, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-15 12:58:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5786104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nialltruffles/pseuds/nialltruffles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...Being in the warmth of someone you love is one of the keys to unlocking the feeling of safety and home. And with him, I had that."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Prologue**

**  
** I loved him.

And every single day it haunts me.  

 

The gentle touch of his breath at the back of my ear is one of the best feelings ever. The warm path of ticklish air crashes down my ear, involuntarily planting a smile on my face. I could almost feel him smiling, grinning, as his arms were tightly wrapped around me from behind—his face above mine, my hands settled safely on his arms. We stared into the apartment balcony, at nothing in particular, breathing in the smell of cold air hitting our innocent faces.

His breathing was something I got used to and is something I definitely would like to hear forever. I've recognized the sound of CO2 as he exhales and oxygen as he breathes in. I've memorized the irresistible scent in his breath whenever he speaks—sweet and lovely and mine. I've memorized the heat his voice eliminates every single time he talks. Man, I've known it all. I've memorized him and did for so long.

It started since those times when I haven't even met him; those times when he was completely out of my league. Memorizing his smile, his eyes, his laugh, were all just basic. But memorizing his smell, the scent of his hair, the reason his eyes light up, the way he moves and breathes, was a whole new different story; something that I didn't know until now.

The way he moves was not how I used to see in pictures; the way he smells was something I would never imagine behind the computer screen. Everything is different now that I'm with him. He is right here in front of me, breathing and alive. He's not an illusion anymore. He is _mine_. God knows how thankful I am for this blessing.

I smiled at him to my left, beating the awe I am currently feeling. These are one of the moments when I just look at him and struggle to put into words how I’m really feeling. For a moment, the inhibitions conquer; realizing how every single thing seems so surreal. I always had to pinch myself to ensure that I wasn’t dreaming—that this was really a part of my story. Reaching him was so difficult back then, impossible even; unreachable like the stars. But then I start to touch his face, breathe in his scent, and there's that sudden burst of happiness as I breathe in the smell of reality.

 

I looked back out the balcony and closed my eyes for a second, feeling his chest pressing closely to my back. The words _I love you_ always came to mind; it did before we even met. I loved him way back when he was unaware of my existence; when I was just a face in the crowd. And now that I'm finally someone to him, the love and admiration were still there. It grew even more in fact.

My eyes slowly fluttered open as I feel his jaw move and mouth rise up into a smile behind me. I twisted my head and sneaked a look at him, unsure of what he's feeling. His eyes suddenly locked into mine and I found myself turning my body fully towards him. His arms continued to wrap around my waist without erasing the smile off of his face.

"What are you thinking?" I asked him while staring into his sea blue eyes. Oh, those _perfect_ blue orbs. That perfect glistening stare. The thought of his eyes come to me at night, haunting. It leaves me with giddy and desperate wanting to stare at it again.

"Nothing," he pauses, "You maybe?" his smile turned into a teasing grin.

I rolled my eyes and flashed a shy smile; my eyes looking down and head facing my toes. He lifted my chin up and my eyes met his sea blue eyes again as he looked directly into mine. Sometimes I wonder what he thinks of my own eyes. My own orbs are black and dark. And sadly, I never found anything so authentic about black eyes.

He leaned in closer to my face and locked our gaze for another second. He smiled at me then leaned in to kiss my left cheek. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then his lips slide down my jaw line, and then a little to my ear. Then down to my neck. I twitched my head to the right, as I was constantly getting tickled by his breath and kisses. I laughed and shoved his face away to stop him from his hellish tickles. He pulled me in closer, teasing, and constantly kissed my neck, knowing it as one of my weak tickle spots. I bit my lips to stop myself from screaming or possibly letting out a moan; one of the habits I recently picked up ever since he started the evil tickles.

"Niall," I say his name as I laughed, giving him the signal to stop.

He kissed my neck one last time and breathed in my scent. "Sorry Kels," he laughed and hugged me even tighter.

His warmth on me has been a wonderful sensation that I've gladly got used to and never got tired of. The feeling I have whenever I'm with him is rare—exotic, alien, out of this world—it has been something I've been desperately looking for.

Ever since my life started to crash and burn and give its biggest plot twists that I never knew was possible; ever since I was almost left with nothing. I always wished he'd never let go. Being in the warmth of someone you love is one of the keys to unlocking the feeling of safety and home. And with him, I had that.

I whispered under my breath but loud enough for him to hear, "I'm yours," I paused, waiting for a response.

"And you're mine." Niall whispers, his mouth closer to my ears. I grin.

"All rights reserved?" I asked.

"All rights reserved."

 

Management hasn't been very nice to our relationship. Being a part of the world's biggest boy band; One Direction, is not easy. And dating one of the members doesn't make it any less difficult. Niall has consistently been the guy in the band who is rarely linked to a girl—something that _Niall girls,_ including myself in fact, have been tremendously happy about. Management wants it to stay that way. Just because I came into the picture, doesn't mean I could change that.

It's difficult to hide however; the feeling, the love, us. As we slowly grow into something more serious, it's becoming much and more impossible to be unseen with him. And denying is not considered an option anymore from where we stand to the fans right now. Not to me or to him. Interviewers never fail to mention this _dark eyed girl in a dress_ and Niall never denies. Management fails sometimes.

It may be the corniest thing ever to hear. _All rights reserved_. When we first came up with that I thought, _what the hell were we thinking?_ You use it for books, for movies, for copyright—not for people, I know. But then I think of it again then I put him in the picture, I slowly grasp the concept of why three little words could mean so much. It doesn't matter how deep or how shallow the words may say, it's the person you share them with which makes the words deeper in depth. It's the person whom you share them with which gives it a whole new different meaning. It was our way of saying I love you, unknowingly.

Now, how did this all happen? It was something I couldn't believe so myself. But it was real. It was all reality.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

 

It all started with my father.

The guy I looked up to, the guy who never left me, and the only guy I have truly loved. I used to make myself believe that we were just like any other ordinary family. But then reality hits me in the head and I slowly uncover that we were different; we weren't whole.

His loud, powerful, ferocious screams come from the living room as I sat alone in the dining table, lips and hands trembling as I take every bite. He was on his cell phone, throwing out words I found difficult to understand. Or in another way of saying it, he threw out howls that I prevented my ears from hearing.

It was all so frightening. Water was building up in my eyes as I try to hitch for oxygen. It felt like the phone was aching and wanted to run away from dad and his problems. I knew somehow, deep inside, I wanted to.

His eyebrows met so close at the top of his forehead, and his eyes felt like it was going to pop out of his sockets. I tried to sneak every glance I could possibly can, but the longer I took staring at him, it felt like my own heart was going to break.

Dad's problems like this happen rarely; so rare that you couldn't recognize him when he starts going mad. He abruptly transforms into this whole new different person that I had a hard time on getting to know.

He gave one huge last scream when his phone call disconnected; his eyes started to go an even more darker shade of red and the pain was finally visible. After yelling and showing authority, he finally broke down when no one was there to hear him. Tears of pain came out his eyes and I had to shake my head for a second to be sure that this was the dad I knew— _my_ dad. I stayed quietly sat down at the dining table as I watched and listened to the man that raised me alone cry out for something I barely know.

I was unaware of what was happening. A minute ago I swore I was just excited to have my belly filled, but then the next minute my own heart was full of fear. I guess I always was oblivious when it comes to situations like this. I never asked about his work. It's not that I don't care; it's probably just because we never really got the chance to talk about it. It was something we didn't care about _together_ ; all we cared about was our experiences together; _happiness with a tinge of survival_.

He started to crash down on the couch in the living room with both his hands rested on his head. Then suddenly, I don't hear him anymore. I only hear pain.

I disliked the thought of seeing him like this, and now that he's in that phase, I have no idea what to do. Comforting was never likely for me; it was something I’ve been terribly untrained at. However, at this time, I knew I had to shake away this current barrier between us. I knew I had to remove my inhibitions. So, I stood up from my chair and slowly peaked inside the living room, praying for the best.

For a second I greatly refused to go to him—my feet stopping itself from moving—but eventually, I found myself walking, trying to be the daughter I had to be.

"Dad?" I gave a gentle, unsure pat on his shoulder.

He shrugged my hand away in an instant, "Not now Kelsea! Everything’s fucked up right now," his voice was firm as he screams—he never screams at me.

"Dad please," I breathed in deeply, taking grip of my own hand. "We only got each other right? How can I help?" I said as calmly as possible, even though this was difficult and terrifying for me.

"Dad I--"

"Kelsea! Get the hell out of my face right now!!" He screamed at me again finally locking gaze. I was taken aback by the tone in his voice, I involuntarily stepped back. "Please." He continued when he heard his own voice, ducking in shame.

Vibrations rushed through my whole body; I was shaking. Anger started building up inside me, no matter how much I tried to hold it in and no matter how much I hated myself for it. My cheeks started to turn red as the tears were also building up.

I knew he was going through a tough time and I probably would never understand the pain revolving around his system right now. But it was heartbreaking to hear him say those words and to scream it directly towards me. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Life could’ve been different if only we were a family that didn’t lack a member.

We only had each other; a father-daughter relationship that was indestructible. I've done everything to forget the pain that the past has brought the both of us in; because I made myself believe that we still had each other. The only phrase that was drilling hardly in my brain right now was _I've done everything_.

I did everything to forget about the pain that mom brought us—my own emotional and crucial pain that she left me with. After leaving, it wasn't a smooth ride. It never had been. We all know that it’s not easy to break off a marriage; that the wife must still love the husband or vice versa. What everyone fails to see, however, is the undying pain it brings to the children. People fail to recognize how greatly it really affects us. All we want is a little appreciation on how strong we've been despite the circumstances.

I closed my eyes, trying to blink away the tears that I tried so hard to suck up, "I- I tried staying strong no matter what problem you and mom were facing, even though the both of you failed to see how it hurts me. I expect the same strength from you," I tried to say as gentle as I possibly can, with full respect, "You only focus on the negative side when in reality, I'm still here." A tear started rolling out.

Dad lifted his head and found me crying, "Kelsea--" he gripped my arm, but this time I gently let go.

"I've always been here dad. I've always been here for you. Even when everything we have is gone"

I heard him take in a deep breath, "I'm sorry Kels," was the only thing he could say.

I gave a nod; one nod to answer every pain. I walked away and rushed upstairs with tears dripping out of my eyes. It was unlike me to lock myself up the room like a little girl, but I guess I _still_ was a little girl. Innocence was taken away from me at such a young age and trying to be mature had been a complication that I overcame alone. Not because I wanted to, but because I needed to.

I turned the knob of my bedroom door and immediately let it shut behind me as it quickly flew away from my fingertips. Too loud, too sudden, too much. Too much pain. I went straight to the dresser and examined myself on the mirror. It all rang familiarity; the swollen eyes, the red aching lips.

I used to be strong. Or maybe, I _tried_ to be strong. Looking at my reflection doesn't look like the person that I keep trying to be. I’ve slowly grown up whilst coming up with the conclusion that being weak makes the people around you feel the same way. I don't want that to happen. I don't want the people around me to feel sad and go through the same emotion that I feel. I don't want them to endure the same pain because I myself know how horrible it feels to be hopeless.

My lips curled down, my face stayed red, and slowly I wondered why I looked like a monster. It's been tough and heartbreaking before, but today, it was the emotion we haven’t been through in a long while. This was one of the moments where people would just break down and slide down their bedroom wall like the movies. I've been going through horrible things before, but the pain that I've felt ringed so much memories.

It all started when mom left us.

When she slammed that front door in front of our faces and never _ever_ came back. I was young and stupid back then; I used to make myself believe that one day she will come back--that one day she'll miss us. That if someone really loved you, they would come back. But that day never came. I waited. A little girl waiting for her mom to give her the love she thinks she deserves. I waited until that last piece of hope left in me slowly faded into tiny orbs.

I remember how much dad suffered back then. He was left mourning and drinking for hours, days, months even. I watched from afar as he slowly broke down; I watched in a distance as our family was slowly crushed down into pieces. All I had to do was be strong, even if I was broken myself.

I remember getting caught in school staring into space because I was remembering every single pain, again. Then a tear started to roll out of my eyes and everyone freaks out. I knew I was depressed back then but I decided to believe I wasn't. I believe depression could strike anyone, but it's really up to you on how everything follows.

I _knew_ I was the strongest one in the family—because I was the only one who actually held on. I couldn't understand how easy it was for mom to let go. I thought that when you love a person, it was harder to let them slip away. I even thought that letting go was not even an option anymore. If you love someone set them free? Ha-ha I'm not sure if she even loved me.

I was left to constantly tell myself that someone will love me soon. The love that I deserve will soon knock on the door after having taken its toll. But guess what? It never did. Whether it was family wise or boy wise. The prince charming that I've waited for never came. Or maybe it did, he just ended up breaking my heart.

I ended up trying to turn my attention to several things to get my mind off of mom's departure. That's when I started learning how to play the guitar, perfectly cook mozzarella balls, and when One Direction slowly knocked into my life. All those and more just so I could refrain myself from thinking about the horrible pinch in my chest.

 

I severely miss those times when dad and I would hang out and everything seemed like there was never a mom in the beginning. When slowly, she started to drift away from our pained minds and lives, and we were starting to pick ourselves back up. Eating ice cream all night long, watching football games that I barely understand, or even going on late night drives to go for take out. We were still a family I believed; the two of us _only_. No mom, no anyone else to hurt us.

But the flashback also never failed to come back to haunt me back to those times when I see mom sitting at the front porch. She presses her lips together and gives a smile that I’ve now been questioning if it was fake the whole time. Her eyes remained closed at the sun the light was slowly fading just before sunset. Her hair turns into a much redder shade underneath the glow and the wind throws it back to my direction. I used to ask her what she was doing when I was a child; why she kept on sitting and smiling at the sun every afternoon. And she would always answer with, _"It's the only light I see."_

Now I get it. All those times where I would remember mom's voice and question myself what she meant. The tone in her voice when it would always break. The light in her eyes that was a lie all along. Now I finally get it. I never did.

 

I sat down my bed and stared into space for a moment, not sure if I had the energy to move. My gaze shifts onto my acoustic guitar to my right and suddenly my hands immediately felt the need to reach for it. I grabbed it and placed it on my lap as I doubtingly positioned myself on the bed.

I strummed a heartless strum as it felt like my last. The emotions that built up minutes ago was not erased, but somehow lessened. I loved the comfort the guitar gave me. It does not solve or erase a problem, but it shortens the amount of anger, pain, sadness I’m feeling. And I think nothing is as comforting as that.

My drive to learn the guitar started on my Taylor Swift days. I bet we all went through that phase; that TS phase when we were all brokenhearted and crying over unworthy boys. It was in that chapter in our lives when our world used to revolve around love and being loved in return. Maybe it still does up till now. We just learn how to handle it better.

I was glad I’ve gotten through that point where vulnerability would make the most of me. Because right now, I’ve learned how to feel numb. To stop feeling pain for a bit. I found myself playing other sad and sappy songs until it slowly turned into a hobby. When One Direction came into the picture, that didn't stop me from learning their own songs. Slowly, those songs became an escape just like how my TS stage used to be. Moments when I needed to escape involuntarily leads my hands to reach for the guitar and play the strings. Moments like this.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

 

A knock on the door interrupted my memories. I stayed silent, placing my hand over the guitar strings. Another knock. "I'm coming in okay," dad says, turning the knob and going in without my response. The look on his face tells me he’s probably ready to explain himself—he was ready to apologize. I tried not to look at those selfish eyes; even though I had the same pair. It took an awful lot of amount and courage to look away, but my eyes still found a way back.

I placed the guitar back on its stand as dad slowly made his way towards me. I looked at him with an expression only he could tell; an expression that we both knew was strong but pained. I waited for him to speak,

"Kelsea," He begins, "First of all, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," the word slips through my mouth, too soon. I knew it wasn't me speaking. It was the instinct that movies and the internet made me believe; to easily forgive someone you love and forget.

"No. Sorry for what I have done--"

"Yes, I know--"

"--and what I'm going to."

His words threw me off. _What I'm going to._ I had no clue of what any of this meant but I already got a terrible feeling about it. From the tone of his voice and the words that came out of his mouth, I was certain it was something I’d rather not hear.

"What you're going to?" I repeated him, carefully and hesitantly, unsure if I really wanted to hear this.

Dad deeply breathed in for oxygen and just solely from that action, I wanted to flee this place again. He patted my shoulder to scoot me over the bed. I moved inches to my right and he took the spot next to me, cupping his hands together. His eyes were locked on me for a while but instantly removed his gaze and shifted it back to his fingernails. As he looked away, I took the opportunity to look into his eyes. Tears.

"Dad--" I grabbed his arm for comfort but he spoke too soon.

"--Kelsea I got her pregnant." I pulled my hand right away, too immediately. In disgust? Probably.

"What the fuck?"

"Kelsea Shey watch your language"

"Sorry dad..." I paused, "...but what the actual shit?"

He sighs.

"Who?" I yelled.

"My boss," he says coldly.

The way words flew so quickly out of his mouth frightened me. His boss: Jennica. Red head, green-eyed contact lenses, anne-hathaway-white-complexion. The girl who dad made clear to me that she was only his boss. The girl he brought to dinner one night. The girl who brought home my favorite avocado ice cream just because she fancied it too. Sweet, charming, innocent-looking Jennica? _No_. It can't be. Please.

“I--“

I couldn’t even make out the words I wanted to say. I couldn’t even gather my own thoughts. Who knew that aside from work, dad had his business up someone else’s? Anger built up, again, like it was the only emotion I was allowed to feel. Hatred was almost there, but how could you even hate someone who gave you so much?

I sat up higher as I tried my best to fully grasp what I just heard. _This is not real,_ I try to tell myself like it was those scenes in Divergent. But this was different; this wasn't a simulation test, this was reality.

Every single word that came out from dad's mouth gave me assurance that it was purely the truth that I had to accept starting now. Every word spoken was reality, no matter how much I wanted to deafen my ears from hearing it. Disgust was written all over my face and I wasn't afraid to hide it.

"I'm sorry Kelsea,"

"You're sorry?” I spewed out too quickly. I took a deep breath in and when I was finally able to gather myself, “I mean, it's not like we're going to raise that child, right dad?"

"Well, yes but--"

"Your boss is filthy rich dad, she doesn't need you!" I only realized how badly that could be interpreted once I said it out loud. I silently hoped he knew that it was not what I meant.

"That's not it Kelsea. The point is, I have to provide for the child"

"What??" I wanted to slam my fist so hard on any solid thing.

"Yes Kelsea,"

I harshly stood up from the bed, "Why is it your obligation now??"

"It's mine too Kels,” he sighed so heavily, “Jennica could demand me if I didn’t"

I combed through my hair using both hands, "AHH!! Never mention that name again to me!” the sound of her name makes me sick. Hearing her filthy name brings me with so much anger I couldn’t even put to words, “Why is this happening to us??" I pulled my hair as tears dripping weren’t of sadness anymore but rather of pain.

"Kelsea, this is my problem and you shouldn’t be stressed out about it," he tries to hold me but I was too far from his grasp, “I’m going to fix this”

"This can’t be your problem only dad! I’m also affected by this and you should see that. What are we going to do now?"

He whispers, "We need money"

"Then throw all our damn money at their faces dad I don't care! Give them all they need, sell our house, I don’t care!” I was shaking in anger and despair. I hated myself for not handling this well. But then again, is there even an appropriate way to handle something that basically is breaking you inside? “I don’t like seeing you like this dad, so we’ll do whatever it takes to make it alright"

I blinked away the tears as fast as I could.

"That leads me to my next problem," he refuses to look at me.

 _Another one?_ I rolled my eyes and shook my head, "Dad?"

“You know that phone call awhile ago?” I nodded my head as an answer, even though I didn’t want to hear his response.

"I lost my job Kelsea,” he combs through his dark hair, “I lost everything."

"What?" I screamed a breathless response. It felt like the life in me was sucked into a vacuum; I felt so weak.

"She fired me for it," he paused, “Saying how it was unprofessional to have me in the same company”

"Well excuse her! She should’ve been the one ashamed to go messing around with her employees!"

"I- well-" he mumbled the words and it seemed like he couldn't find the right words to say. So he said something else instead, "Now we don't have enough money to sustain the baby. Once our savings is gone, we wouldn’t have anything left. I couldn’t even pay for your tuition" he says quietly and in the tone in his voice, I knew he just didn’t want to disappoint me.

I felt my heart weaken. Almost like I couldn't breathe. I sat down the edge of the bed, gripping the bed sheets, and looking away from dad. "Are you guys in a relationship?" I shrugged my head when I heard myself, "Oh wait, that was a stupid question, of course you are"

"We were but--"

"You were??" I finally looked at him and showcased my emotion once again, "You're telling me that you have a child but you're not together??"

"Kelsea, an adult's world is complicated--"

“You’re going through that mom phase again dad!” I said in complete devastation. I sighed so deeply, "What do you want me to do?" I said, my voice low, "Maybe I could work, maybe babysitting, part time in fast food chains, anything for you dad"

I couldn't read his face on what he wanted me to do. But somehow, I concluded this as the solution. We both knew I didn't want to do this and that it was against my will, but it only felt like the legitimate thing to do. Dad's not going to get a job as fast as a desperate teenager could, so a couple of bucks a day could be a huge help for the both of us.

But he stopped me. "No Kelsea. This is _my_ problem and not yours. Don't drag yourself into this; your mom wouldn't like--"

"--I don't care what mom says!!!" my calm self was once again reuniting with my worst friend, anger.

"But I have made a decision" dad looked at me, his eyes firm and staring down at me as I sat so small in the bed.

His words stopped me as I felt a shiver rush down my spine, "A decision?"

A thousand of questions conquered my mind I couldn't even think straight. Are we going to sell this house and live on the streets? Are we going to come crawling back to mom because we have nothing left? I hated to see the overview of reality and the possible outcomes. And knowing that it's probably not what I expected makes it much more horrible than it really is.

"I called your Aunt Matell" he starts.

"Why?"

"You're leaving tomorrow."

"What??" I couldn’t even make out the emotions running through my system right now. Bile rises up my throat and my stomach started to ache, "Aunt Matell? From freaking Ireland? Dad that’s not even close to San Francisco. What in the world am I going to do in freaking Ireland??" It was supposed to be a scream, but everything seemed like a loud, desperate whine.

"Continue Senior Year then go to college, it's not that bad."

"College?? It's not that bad?? Now really dad" I sarcastically told him.

"I'm not going to let you suffer my battle Kelsea. And while you're still with me, it's inescapable. Aunt Matell is kind enough to get involved in my problems."

"Wow, okay, your _problems_ meaning _me_?"

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Why dad? Why so sudden? Why in freaking Ireland?"

Dad finally says in a comforting voice, "I have no choice Kels, please, you have to."

"Dad..."

"I'll work through this and I promise to come for you as soon as I can," I heard the sadness in his voice, "I'm sorry."

Nothing came out from my mouth, but from my eyes, tears started creeping. I was never afraid of crying in front of dad, but in front of me, I always felt like he held it in. I didn't know who I should blame all this on; Mom because if she hadn't left us, this wouldn't happen, Jennica for even laying her fingers on dad, or myself because I couldn’t do anything to prevent it.

Dad grabs my head and buries it in his chest like he usually does. He inhales the scent of my hair and kisses my forehead like it was a routine whenever I or we were going through a challenge in our lives. I smell his chest and could sniff the scent of alcohol mixed with the perfume he always wear to hide it. I feel his love—how much he wanted to make this work—but his pain was even more dominant.

He finally stood up the bed, slowly doubting it at first, but eventually making the decision on leaving me alone in the room just like that. Conversation ended. The way he shuts the bedroom door felt so bitter and gray, even if it was closed gently with no sound.

I could barely move at all. My whole body was paralyzed and it felt like nothing had purpose anymore. The tears didn't seem to stop, but my whole body seemed to have frozen. It felt like my world stopped completely, but my feelings didn't. After staring at the shut door for seconds, I finally found a way to fold my knees up to my chest and hide my face away from the world.

Everything is happening too quickly it was too difficult to keep track. If everything is happening so fast right now in a span of minutes, what more in 1 to 2 years time? Dad even said 'college life', so 4 more years plus my remaining senior year? What could I possibly come back to? Dad and Jennica actually working things out and having a second baby? Will dad still want me? Those are just some of the many possibilities I couldn't answer myself because I was leaving.

After all the amazing and horrible things Dad and I gone through together, we were gone in just a day—and I didn't even saw any of it coming. Yesterday felt like a normal day for us, but the way it shifted into present time felt like I was living in a lie the whole time.

 

My heart beat starts to lessen as my breathing normalizes. When I think of the word Ireland—Niall pops into my head. _Niall Horan_. But it wasn't a time to be happy. When I get there, it wasn't because of a vacation; it wasn't for fun and games, but rather it was for a living. Because if Aunt Matell hadn't even consider helping us, we would be ruined. Coming with her was the only way to live.

I tried my best to focus on the positive side; I forced myself. But it's not as easy as I thought it would. I would always find myself thinking about the possibilities. Jennica; her mouth curling into a grin as she holds the child in her hands, taking all the things that was supposed to be mine—like my own dad’s love. I'm not alone now. I'm not dad's one and only baby girl. Because he's having another child.

He could say how much he regrets it and how much the child was a huge mistake. But maybe _I_ was a mistake too. That's why mom left. And the thought of the child alive doesn't remove him from loving that child. It came from him _too_. Just like how I did. It's not his fault when he loves _it_ , when he gets attached. The fact remains a fact, that I'm not the only one.

I'm not anymore.


End file.
